


The Sinner

by Caprikat



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Artist omega, Convent, Deflowering, First Time Kiss, First Time Sex, Gen, Happy Ending, Innocence, Intersex, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Male omegas are intersex, Male/Male, Mpreg, No ass babies, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Nuns, Omegaverse, Religion, Vaginal Sex, War, Yaoi, church, older alpha/younger omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 23:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17949104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprikat/pseuds/Caprikat
Summary: Cecil is quite accomplished at the age of nineteen. He’s intelligent, well versed in Latin, French, Italian and English, art, and history. He’s also well respected in the religious community that he’s become a nun, earlier in his life, and now is in charge of taking care of those in training. He’s content with living his life devoted to God–or so he believes–until he meets a mysterious stranger who makes him question if the life he’s living, is truly what he wants.





	The Sinner

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I’ve done some research and tried to be as accurate as I can. I realize nuns are only female, but in my omegaverse, all omegas, no matter what sex can be nuns. Also, I would like to clarify that omegas who are male are intersex (small cocklet but no balls, and a vagina), but female omegas are purely female. Also, all alphas are male and betas can be either. This chapter is not beta read, and I would appreciate if you could please find mistakes I make. Truly appreciate it!

Cecil's hand eagerly moved quickly across the tarnished page of the journal. It was worn out by age, the leather cover was deteriorating, and inside, the thin, wrinkled papers that filled it, were stained a horrid off yellow color. He had found booklet in the basement of the old church when he was cleaning one day, and hadn’t since put it down.

Today especially, he had been compelled to write in it.

10th December 1936

_ "Forgive me lord for I have sinned," he wrote. "I have vowed myself to you, and have promised to you that I would be nothing more than a holy child—to keep myself from lecherous ponders and to keep myself from becoming deplorable like the common man—but today, I have sinned greatly." _

He ceased the markings of his feathered pen, and bit his lower lip, bruising it; a light pink hue dusted his pallid cherub cheeks.

Cecil then looked back down at the paper, and sighed dreamily, chin supporting his slouched posture. He continued where he had left off.

_ "This evening, there was a man who sought refuge from a horrid storm, and of course, as abided by church law, was humbly welcomed by Father Marcelo; this man was an alpha. Lord, I had never seen an alpha before. The entirety of my life—since I have been dropped off here by my unknown mother—had I been encompassed only by the presence of betas and omegas; and when I had met the cursory gaze of the older man, I had immediately become flustered, and unbridled lust had coursed through me (though I did not let it show in my demeanor and retreated back to my quarters.  I must admit hiding those...sensations were quite arduous; I barely could keep my pheromones restraint). The man was a paragon of pulchritude; so beautiful that I believed for a slight moment he was an angel sent by you. I know it sounds preposterous, ludicrous, blasphemous that I even dare record such words—and I wish you not Lord, to take umbridge to my thoughts because I mean no disrespect to you, and I know no one can be compared to the sons and daughters of the Heavens...but at the moment, it felt true. I have come here, imploring for forgiveness, wanting to repent for the sin I have committed against you, and yet—Lord, please I beg of you not to think lowly of me—for repenting feels wrong —but also refraining from repenting feels immoral as well. So, momentarily, all I can pray is that these feelings leave from the confines of my soul when the man stay is finished. Lord, I ask if you shall not loathe me, but guide me back to the path of righteousness." _

_ Thank you Lord, _

Amen.

 

 

Cecil closed the journal in his hand, and opened the drawer of his desk, gently placing it inside. Afterwards, he took a hold of the chamberstick on his desk and gently blew it so the little flame extinguished, making his way back to his bed. His footsteps were leisure and ponderous as he did so, aching slightly from standing from mass earlier today.

As he settled into the covers of his bed, he could immediately tell that his heart felt lighter with the confession; but despite this, the feelings of guilt still resided as well. At least, he thought, _ I would not be going to bed with a full burden on my chest.  _ His hazel eyes stared up to the ceiling, a modicum of liquid left them. He ceremoniously clasped his hands together.  _ Again Lord, I thank you. _

These were the most optimistic reassurances he could come up with, and in this instance, had soothed him enough so that he could compel himself to shut his heavy eyes.

The hallway was slightly dimmed. It smelled faintly of smoke, and dust. Windows crafted by the finest colored glasses were embedded in rows, each one depicting scenes from the biblical stories.

At the very end of the hall, stood two figures. One stood much taller than the other, arms extended out to corner the smaller one.

"No, this is wrong. My virtue is... we should not be—"

 

A smothering kiss silenced the omega as a large, calloused hand pulled back the stiff crown band of his veil, revealing his braided auburn mane. One hand reached out, holding the back of his head. The grip was gentle, and pulled him in closer into the alpha. He could not breath in the moment, could not think, and followed through with the sweet kisses. Cecil's hand attempted to grasp whatever was behind him, but it was met by chilling marble. The stranger's bussing began to move south, to the curve of his lithe neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. Dark, circular red bruises coated the paleness of it.

Cecil gasped out in unprecedented pleasure and the man ceased his persistent kissing for a moment, and peered up at him. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and a playful smirk plastered on his face. The alpha's hands roamed much further downwards, his touch still lingering on the fabric of his clothes. He knew exactly what he was seeking.

 

A mixture of trepidation of joy spread through Cecil.

Two fingers found their way in between the plump slit. He dragged them right into the center, almost dipping into the hole, but refraining from doing it. Prodding them deeper, he—

 

 

Droplets of sweat had poured down the omega's face, and he tossed and turned, moaning till his eyes opened.

His face was heated.

What was that dream? It was surreal—so salacious. It was more sinful than the sin he had committed the day before—and yet, he was unsure what to think of it. Admittedly, he enjoyed the pleasure, but he also felt disgusted by having the dream in the first.

Lord, what is wrong with me?

He heaved, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands steadied themselves to pull himself up.

That was when he felt it.

The aching, slippery substance that fell between his thighs. A concoction of curiosity, and horror lingered in his mind. For a second he had thought that he had peed himself, but then it occurred to him—even as a child he had never wet the bed. Also, the texture was too thick to be...urine, therefore , that possibility was promptly ruled out. His ruminations wandered to any other possibilities, and the second thing that came to it mind was his period—but his cycle ended nearly a week ago, so that wasn’t the case either. But, if it were neither of those, then the question still remained.

What was it?

Carefully his hand lifted the covers, searching for his inner thigh. When he touched it, he automatically grimaced, and retreated his hand, staring at it. It was glossy, and stretched between his limber fingers. His nose scrunched up at the odd, musky smell that permeated from it.

His eyes widened in perpetual disgust, and that's when he realized this was the outcome of his dream.

Knock.

Knock.

 

 

"Brother Cecil, breakfast is about to be served," Finely, one of the most trusted novitiates called out. "Also," he giggled, "there's a delightful stranger joining us."

"Uh—yes." He looked down at his soaked hand, and then back up at the door. "I will be there momentarily!"

He cleaned himself well, making sure to clear his wanton scent before joining the others.

 

 

"Cecil, you must see him. This man—he's an alpha. So dreamy, tall and handsome—" Finely said favorably, clasping his hands together.

Although Cecil could not agree more with the statement, he pretended to be disinterested. Finely was only a lad of mere sixteen years in age, he knew nothing of love nor lust—well, neither did Cecil but he vowed to treat any member of the church like his own , and as so he  must set an example; he must protect Finely's purity.

Moreover, they were nuns in training. Their thoughts should be on prayers, biblical teachings—not this.

Cecil snapped his head towards him, his eyebrow arched. "We are married to God," he admonished. His voice was a little bit too loud, causing it to echo in the barren hallway.

The younger omega did his best not to scoff at the comment, and instead asked as politely as he could, "Do you not think there is more to life than religion?"

"No," he retorted. "You are a novitiate and I am a nun. It is our livelihood." Cecil made sure to accentuate every word. "Others perhaps, but not us."

A hand made its way to Finely's black veil,  combing it as if it was his hair. He shook his head, slightly irritated and refused to look at Cecil. "I should have not told you such thoughts. I apologize brother. It was very crass of me," he replied softly, but his tone belief this amendment was mendacious. 

"Yes it was. Do not speak of such things again. Those quixotic ramblings were insulting. Father Marcelo—"

"I am famished." Finley quickly changed the topic at hand to avoid more berating.

The large, wooden doors of the dining hall were pushed open, and they both entered. Cecil's eyes immediately landed on the alpha man. He sat on the long, wooden rectangular seat, eating what appeared to be oatmeal. Surrounding him, were the children under his care; none of them were wearing their habits. They all were all bombarding the man with inquiries, and Cecil could tell, the way that their bodies hips rolled and undulated, was evident that their questions belied something far more than innocent curiosity.

 

 

"What is the outside world like?" Charlie, the youngest omega asked. He was about twelve years in age, with long straight black hair.

"Are you married?" Another piped in, batting his thick lashes.

"What brings you here?" A third inquired.

"How long will you be staying? Please tell us, you will be staying a while." 

"Where are you from?"

"What do you do?"

"Do you have a family?"

"How old are you?"

 

 

Cecil felt something burn within the pits of his heart. He clenched his fist tightly, feigning deep a cough. Everyone's heads spun around regarding him.

It became deathly silent, and the children paled as his eyes flashed sternly, narrowing at them all. 

"Brother Cecil," Aspen breathed out. He was the second oldest of the group at seventeen-years- old. His unruly short ginger hair was sprawled out—though it was not un-pretty, he supposed, it was nevertheless still against church rules. The boy seemed to notice, Cecil's deprecating stare, and attempted to mat it down hastily. He gave him a meek smile. "We were just welcoming our guest."

"Yes, I'm sure gawking while the man is trying to eat, is very welcoming and not rude at all," Cecil stated sarcastically, eyes blinking owlishly as his gave a condescending smile.

Truthfully, he could not blame them for wanting the alpha's attention. Cecil wanted the alpha's attention—but he could not reveal this. He was respected in the religious environment, and could not permit flaws in his omegan nature to be shown.

_ I must pious. _

"Furthermore, where are all of your habits? Do you not know of the reason we wear them in the first place?" His voice slowly rose. He wasn't livid per say--a little vexed, but not livid; he needed to be stern in order to enforce discipline. "I want all of you to go back, and change. If you do not do so in the next ten seconds, I will tell Father Marcelo of this, and he will have you flogged. Do I make myself clear?”

"Yes, Brother Cecil," they replied in unison, the vacillating in their voice indicating that they were both agitated and tense.

They scurried away—for the exception of Finely, who he had forgotten was by his side—their ponderous footsteps and chattering--which he to be them slandering him-- becoming fainter as they exited the hall.

FInely sat on the farthest opposite end of the table, his head position down as he clasped his hands in a silent prayer before digging  into the meal he had gotten from the counter.

Cecil went to join him, but unexpedly the man’s comely voice perturbed his thoughts, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Dark, blue eyes followed him, and inwardly, Cecil felt himself affected by them, but ignored those sensations.

He scowled at the man, and raised his head. It was a pompous gesture on his part, but he did it as to appear nonchalant by his presence.

"They are merely children. Flogging is quite an extreme punishment, is it not?" Cecil hated that deep, velvet timber that came from the man's lips. The alpha's expression was callous as his gaze met with Cecil's own.

The omega couldn't bare it any longer than a cursory glance; he knew that if he stared any longer than he would have felt the effects of his omegan nature taking over. Until now, he never considered being omega was anything to be ashamed of, after all he was born this way, and yet,  he found himself at the moment wanting to be a beta. 

 

The man looked no different than how he looked a day ago. His dark brown locks were gelled back, and his tanned skin somehow glowed brightly. The alpha, wore pristine military uniform, and traditional insignia located on the right of his chest, indicated his rank--though, Cecil could not decipher what position he held because he wasn’t savvy when it came to those affairs. All that Cecil knew was there were no soldiers here in Artbrook—none of which Cecil has heard of, though there was a brewing war in the North, and steadily progressing downwards. It wasn't unheard of, of soldiers being separated from the tides of belligerence.

The man, Cecil concluded, must had strayed from his own, and found the nearest place in which he temporarily stay.

"Most are novitiates, others postulates— but nevertheless, devotées to God, sir," he replied, his voice hoarse. He had tried to sound firm, but instead he sounded like a quivering toddler.

"That doesn't deny the fact that they're still children." The rebuttal was almost instant, and completely blunt.

"Children who are under my care, sir."

The man's gave a loud sigh, and then a mockery came from his lips; it wasn't caustic in anyway, a bit playful in fact.  "A child taking care of children? How ironic."

Words were not needed for Finely to know that Brother Cecil wanted him to leave. The conversation was becoming heated, and knowing Cecil, it would exacerbate soon enough. So, as quietly as he could, he stood up stiffly, lips pursed and exited like the rest of the previous group.

"I am nineteen years of age. A fully fledged adult, sir. If I may ask, how old are you?" Cecil demanded cheekily.

The man couldn't be older than twenty-seven. He was clean–shaven, awfully immature, and—

A chuckle.

"I'm thirty-two."

There was a long, awkward, pause, and Cecil fumbled on his words when he spoke again. Undoubtedly, Cecil was shocked, and his mind could not comprehend what to say next. 

"Well—then perhaps I may seem to be a child, in your view," he remarked awkwardly, the tension in his voice still there. He beamed at the ground trying to ignore the man's prying eyes.

"Yes, in fact, the same age as my obstinate sister. But at least—she even knows how to keep her pheromones in check."

"I–I, um, am not used to the company of an alpha—." It was excuse—not a lie—but something to cache his feelings. He almost regretted responding the the alpha's statement in the first place—almost.

"Neither are the others, but at least—they are honest, about their biology."

Painfully embarrassed how blatantly the man saw through his affectation, Cecil grabbed his garments tightly around his fist as his cheeks flooded pink. "If you excuse me, sir." He began walking straight, aiming to escape his flustered state, his hand made its way to the handle when unexpectedly, the man clasped his wrist.

It might have stupid to even think it, yet he had never felt so much warmth in his life. Living in such a religious environment hardly called for simple gestures, so he was not accustomed to the sudden touch.

Cecil flinched slightly, and then eased into the feeling, savoring it for the brief moment before the large, calloused hand released him.

"What's your name?" he asked, and for a second, Cecil almost forgot.

"Cecil, sir."

"Dmitri. And, just to inform you, you can drop the sir—I'm not that old yet."

"If that is your wish," he gulped, stilled by the man closely behind him.

Cecil's gaze never ceases from the ground, but he was certain the alpha could see how flustered he truly was, and took every opportunity to tease him. Dmitri's lips were at the cusp of the omega's ear.

The hairs on Cecil's neck, stood up.

"I find you interesting, Cecil. What if I told you, I wished to see you more often?"

Cecil opened his dry mouth to say something  but before he could do some, one of the doors opened. The omega acted on instinct, and stumbled back a couple feet from Dmitri, pretending their conversation never occurred.

The pink flesh of his cheeks disappeared, and instead he fabricated the habitually smile he gave Father Marcelo.

"Ah, Brother Cecil. I was beginning to worry. I thought you were ill when you did not show up to morning mass at your usual time. I'm glad that is not the case."

"Yes, Father. Apologies." Cecil bowed slightly out of respect, and glanced up at the older man. "Sir Dmitri had some inquiries of our daily routine at the church, and I dutifully answered."

"Courteous as always, Brother Cecil."

"Thank you, Father."

Father Marcelo, then turned his sights on the alpha, and exchanged a few words with the younger man. Of course, Cecil took the opportunity to sneak away while the men were talking. He was thankful that Father had inadvertently saved him, because honestly, he didn't know what he was going to say.

Once safely out, he felt himself collapse onto a wall, looking up as he let out a huff.

_ Oh, lord, what shall I do? _


End file.
